


Interlude

by vega_voices



Series: Sleeps with Butterflies [51]
Category: CSI, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Worse, she hated that he'd said it to Heather. He hadn't said it to her. He'd needed a third party, yet again, to tell her how he felt.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Title** : Interlude  
**Series** : Sleeps with Butterflies  
**Fandom** : CSI  
**Pairing** : Sara/Grissom  
**Rating** : Gen  
**A/N** : This is a quick turn around reaction to the finale. Spoilers included. It is also a promise that there is more of this story coming.

 **Summary:** _Worse, she hated that he'd said it to Heather. He hadn't said it to her. He'd needed a third party, yet again, to tell her how he felt._

The irony didn't escape her. In fact, the irony pissed her the fuck off. Here she was, applying for the position of a lifetime, a position she really wanted, a position she knew she was perfect for, a position she'd fought for, a position that mattered to her more than she could ever explain to anyone except her soul in the middle of the night, and Conrad was standing in front of her, asking about her damned ex-husband. It was fifteen years ago all over again; of course she couldn't actually run a case this important without Gil walking in and screwing with her thought processes. See, her time in Las Vegas made perfect sense when when she wasn't thinking about the man she'd given her heart to.

Of course, her mood wasn't helped by the fact that her boyfriend had broken up with her just a couple of weeks before.

Fuck her heart and the fact that it impacted her.

But she did the mature thing and passed along the last good number she had for Gil and pretended she didn't care that Conrad called him. After all, who better to understand Lady of the Night Heather than her ex-husband. Not like she didn't have the psychological profiles. Not like she hadn't worked cases involving her since. Nope. Had to call in Gil. The Dominatrix Whisperer. And while they were at it, let's let Catherine Willows show up too. Because why not? It was only the biggest case of her career and she was starting to believe that it was all a test by Conrad to see how she handled this process. If she could take this, she could run the lab, right?

_Okay, note to self, don't let anyone know how paranoid you can be._

Especially not when ...

Hell ... he looked good. He looked so good.

He looked ...

He looked like he was still searching. He looked like the ghosts that had chased her for so long, the demons that kept after him still had him running. He looked as lost as he had the day he'd shown up in the camp in Costa Rica and what bothered her wasn't that he was there in front of her but that he hadn't found what he wanted. He hadn't found his center. And she actually felt guilty because she had. She knew where she belonged and somehow it was here, in this hole in the desert that would probably be the cause of the next civil war in America. She knew her soul was right here in this lab, and she knew just by looking at him, that his soul wasn't as lost as he wanted it to be. What bothered her was that he still couldn't talk to her, that she could see the wall between them, a wall that had always been there because they would forever be circling around each other. Because she knew that if he just gave an inch, a single inch, she'd take his hand and work on where they'd left off. Because she knew as well as he refused to admit that he hadn't wanted to divorce any more than she had.

Somewhere between her jealousy of Heather Kessler ( _We just talked a few days ago_ ) and her nerves about Gil, she realized just how much she missed him and it drove her crazy because she could feel him reaching for her and, as usual, not doing a damned thing about it and she wanted to just cry because if he'd touch her she would cave. It didn't take much. It wouldn't. Because fucking hell, she still loved him. She. Still. Loved. Him. And she hated that Heather had made her say it out loud even though she'd said it to her journal over countless pages until she sounded like a love sick teenager. Worse, she hated that he'd said it to Heather. He hadn't said it to her. He'd needed a third party, yet again, to tell her how he felt.

That more than any reason was why she was in Vegas and he was trolling the oceans.

But she watched that tape fifteen times before leaving a message for Conrad that she needed to take some time to get her head ready to organize the lab. Luckily, he'd allowed for the time with a nod and a smile and she forced herself to accept that it hadn't been condescending. After all, she was coming back.

But it wasn't until she stood on the pier, looking at Gil, feeling his arms around him, that she understood just how much he needed her. She'd lived for so long on her need of him - or not needing him - that she finally understood it went both ways.

"I ..." he said, pulling back. She stroked his cheek and shrugged. "Sara, I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she replied. "I am too."

"I don't know ..."

"I'm not giving everything up," she said, stopping him before he could take her hand and lead her onto the boat. "That was our problem last time. You gave it all up. And then where were we?" He blushed. She tucked her finger under his chin. "I took a week. Let's ... enjoy each other. And figure it out from there."

He smiled. She sighed and tucked herself back into his arms. Where she'd always belonged.

_To Be Continued ..._


End file.
